Making Amends
by Laume
Summary: Formerly on Luke Kenobi's account. Written for the Third Floor Corridor romance contest. SS/MM. When Snape is retrieved alive from the Shack, McGonagall faces her own guilt - and the man she drove away.
1. Chapter 1

Minerva McGonagall surveyed the absolute chaos that still reigned in the Hall, and indeed the whole school

**A/N This story was formerly under the account of Lukekenobi, which still exists but is closed up now. I used it for some time as a secondary account but found it easier now to put all my stories under my main penname. So, this is not some plagiarism thing – they were mine to begin with.**

Minerva McGonagall surveyed the absolute chaos that still reigned in the Hall, and indeed the whole school. The dead had been gathered, the tables in the Hall been righted, but it was painfully clear that the whole school had been damaged severely. It would take months of rebuilding to restore Hogwarts to its former glory and even then, it would never be the same.

With a sad shake of her head, she remembered Albus and his eternal optimism. He would have twinkled and set to work. Or rather, twinkled and set others to work. Harry had gone off with his friends somewhere, though she wasn't sure where. The boy – no, the man had proven he could take care of himself, she didn't have to worry. He had left her the Pensieve with memories. It had hurt so much to see the children again as children. Lily, the bright girl that delighted her, James with his talent in transfiguration, and Severus. Poor Severus.

As much as she had been loyal to Albus, she couldn't help but feel anger at the old man for the way he had treated the Potions Master. Albus' faith in Severus' conversion to the Light hadn't been based on trust and friendship, but on blackmail and manipulation. She had known, of course, that her old mentor wasn't perfect as many wanted to believe. It was just that being confronted with that imperfection was painful.

Another wave of guilt hit her. Albus may not have been perfect, but what had she done? Made Severus's life even more difficult the past year, and drove him out of the school – drove him to his death. He might have lived if not for her. He would have been inside the school, out of Voldemorts reach, and within Harry's.

As she made her way through the corridors, she heard hurried footsteps behind her.

"Professor, quickly," Harry panted, his wand out, levitating a body in black cloth, "He's still alive, we must get him to the infirmary. Hurry!"

She had no time to think as the three sprinted past her on their way to Poppy. All she could do was follow.

When she entered the infirmary, Harry had lowered the body on the bed and Hermione was handing potions to Madam Pomfrey, who was simultaneously waving her wand and forcefeeding the draughts to the still figure.

The Headmistress gasped. "Severus?"

"We went to retrieve his body from the Shack," Ron explained, "and then we found that he was still breathing, though barely. We found a bezoar under his tongue, Hermione said that probably kept him alive so long. We're not sure he's going to make it though."

Hope flared, unwanted and painfully. The longer the nurse kept busy, the more she hoped, and with each slight movement of the pale chest the small ray of hope grew bigger until there was no denying it. She tried to squash it, knowing after laying in that dirty shack for so long without help, it was unlikely even the mediwitch could still save him. She found herself telling herself that Severus had always been strong and stubborn – that he would get through this.

Finally the mediwitch straightened. "Thank you," she said to the trio, "now we have to wait. I have to ask you to leave now – I need to clean him up and get him into clean clothes. He is a very private person…"

Harry nodded immediately while Hermione blushed slightly, and the three left the infirmary after a last glance.

The mediwitch then turned her attention to the Headmistress, who stared defiantly back. "I am not going anywhere, Poppy, so I might as well help you."

A few more glares and the nurse gave in. "Alright. You get him out of those filthy clothes while I fetch some water to clean him up. Be careful."

"Always," the Headmistress muttered, gently stroking the still cold cheek with her finger. She cut the robes rather than try to wrestle him out of them. A levitation charm, and they were easily removed. When the other witch returned with warm water, cloths and towels they gently washed off the blood and dirt. The wounds in the neck had scabbed, finally, and after cleaning a bandage was applied to it. The warm water also brought necessary heat to the body and when they were done, the Potions Master was breathing a little easier.

Finally he was dressed in a gown and covered with warm blankets.

"There's nothing we can do but wait now, Min," Poppy sighed, "I've done all I can. His body may have been too weakened to recover. If he lives through the night, he probably will recover. It's touch and go right now."

"You go to bed," Minerva said, conjuring a comfortable chair, "I'm going to stay."

"Are you sure? You've been stretched too thin the past days, weeks, as well."

Poppy had her answer when the thin lips straightened into a line. "We've done him much wrong," the Transfiguration Professor stated, "I did him much wrong. Staying with him now is the least I can do."

She sat down almost regally, taking the limp hand in her own and settling her eyes on the gaunt face.


	2. Chapter 2

It was warm and soft, not at all like the floor of the Shack

It was warm and soft, not at all like the floor of the Shack. In fact, the smells were not that of the Shack, either. They were familiar….if only he could open his eyes.

With supreme effort, he finally managed to pry his lids apart. The Hogwarts infirmary. How in the name of all things sacred did he get here? Why would anyone bother retrieving his body from the Shack? Why, for that matter, would they bother to heal him and not kill him outright?

Oh.

Right.

He had given Potter his memories, fulfilling the last task Albus Dumbledore set upon him. A terrible realisation set upon him. He had told Potter what must be done to defeat the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord was obviously gone, or he would not be alive and in the infirmary. Voldemort had intended to kill him after all. It led to only one conclusion.

The boy must be dead.

Despite his dislike for the son of his nemesis, he felt a sense of loss and grief that the last of Lily to brighten this world was now also gone.

A tear made its way down his face and it was only when he moved to wipe it away that he noticed one of his hands was far warmer than the other. He looked down. It was being held in a hand not his own.

He followed the hand to the wrist, arm and finally shoulder and face of Minerva McGonagall, dozing in the chair next to his bed. His movement, slight though it had been, alerted her and she sat up straight.

"Severus," she whispered, her voice tight. "Oh, we feared for you, when you would not wake up."

He stared at her, unable to comprehend. His last, painful memory of her had been her furious face as she chased him from the school.

It must have shown in his eyes, because she leaned forward, kissed his forehead, and sighed.

"I cannot even begin to apologise, Severus, but I fear it must wait until you are well again – Poppy would ban me from the infirmary permanently if I upset you."

He wanted to protest that he certainly was not that prone to emotional outbursts, that he was not an unstable teenager, but it was far too much trouble. Poppy rushed in, having been called by Minerva, and a quick examination later it was declared that he would live. Minerva helped him up a little and a glass was pressed to his lips. After drinking some watered-down pumpkin juice he closed his eyes, too exhausted to ask questions or give answers. Sleep claimed him again.

ssmmssmmssmmssmm

When he woke again, the Headmistress was still sitting in the chair, this time reading a book. He studied her. Why was she here? Was she his guard? It did not appear that he was in restraints, but surely they would be taking him to Azkaban. Perhaps Minerva was to make sure he did not escape?

She looked up, and smiled.

"Hello Severus. How do you feel?"

He attempted a reply. "T…t….thir…ty," he rasped.

The witch nodded, got a glass of water and a straw. She put another pillow behind his shoulders and let him sip.

"Thank you," he sighed after several long pulls.

The blankets that covered him were warm, soft and comfortable. He traced the pattern with his finger.

"What is it going to be, Minerva? Life in Azkaban or the Kiss?" he asked softly.

The startled move of her head surprised him.

"Severus, why on earth would you think…" then she stopped. "Oh. Oh dear. Of course you would believe that."

She sighed and once more took his hand in her own. "Severus, Harry isn't dead. The Horcrux is gone from him, but he lives. He told us, he told everyone that you were a spy, even this past year, in here. I – I saw the memories, but no one else has. They have been stored safely until they can be returned to you. Severus…"

"He lives?" Severus asked, "I saw…he looked at me…before it became dark…Lily's eyes. I thought…"

"That everything of Lily had died with the boy," Minerva sighed, "I know how hard you worked to keep him safe, to keep all of us safe. I am very sorry that I did not trust you more, that I did not help you – that I drove you away. I wish…"

"You weren't supposed to know," he interrupted her, "you were not supposed to trust me. No one was. It was the price I had to pay, for my redemption."

"The price Albus set upon you," she corrected him sadly, "to die without honour."

"But with my soul intact," Severus whispered, "even if I had died and no one had known the truth – I would have known. When Potter came to the Shack, when the only chance I had to inform him, I could not resist giving him those other memories as well – the ones that tell the very worst…the very worst of me."

She leaned forward, her hand resting against his cheek. "And the very best of you, Severus."

"Yes," he admitted painfully, "after this year…after being so alone, with only the Headmaster's portrait for company – I could not help but to want to justify myself, if only a little. It was childish of me."

"Oh, no," the witch shook her head, "no, Severus, not at all. I know I was not supposed to know Albus's little scheme, but I still am very sorry that you were alone. I still am sorry that I hurt you."

Minerva McGonagall had known Severus since he was eleven. She had seen him longing for Lily, she had seen them break apart and she had worried what had become of the boy. When he returned, he had been even more withdrawn, sometimes vindictive, certainly bordering on cruel in his teaching. They had been competitive in a relatively amiable way, but in all the long years she had never seen even the hint of a smile on the pale face. A grimace or smirk at best. Yet, there it was. A shy, hesitant smile, brief and not really worth mentioning if it had been anyone but Severus, but enough for her.

She nearly gasped at how much younger it made his face, how much it smoothed out the lines of worry and pain. Suddenly feeling warm and protective, she leaned over him, once again kissed his forehead and tucked him in.

"Sleep," her voice betrayed the warmth she felt and he looked up at her in surprise, "you need it. Now is the time to rest; you've done all that was asked of you and more."

To her eternal delight, his hand reached for hers as he once more succumbed to healing rest.


	3. Chapter 3

It was two weeks before Poppy allowed Severus to leave the infirmary, even though he started complaining and trying to sneak out on day three

It was two weeks before Poppy allowed Severus to leave the infirmary, even though he started complaining and trying to sneak out on day three. Minerva watched the antics of the nurse and the Potions Master in amusement, though inwardly she agreed with the witch that Severus needed the time in the infirmary room. The bezoar had neutralised much of the poison but he was still affected by it, not to mention that the impossibly difficult year had taken its toll - he had lost a lot of weight and confessed to Minerva, far away from the nurse's ears, that he hadn't had an uninterrupted night's sleep since that dreadful night on the Tower. Privately, she suspected the months leading up to that event had been extremely stressful for him as well.

"What are you doing?"

Snape looked up from the trunk he had been packing.

"Gathering my belongings," he replied, "half the contents of this office," he waved his hand around the Potions Masters office, "I purchased. I won't take it all, but there are some items I am rather attached to."

Minerva felt her stomach drop and she was sure it showed on her face. "You are leaving?"

"Of course," a few more books joined the other items in the trunk, "my presence here at Hogwarts is bad publicity for you, and at a time when you need all possible cooperation to rebuild the school."

He glanced at her, startled at her expression and stood up straight. "You expected me to stay?" he asked in wonder.

"Not really expected," Minerva corrected, "but I had hoped…I had hoped…well. I certainly can see why you would want to leave here as soon as possible. There are few happy memories for you here…"

The dark man snorted. "There are few happy memories for me anywhere. Anyway, I am bad publicity and you no longer require my services…"

"Oh, I am not sure about that," the Headmistress said offhandedly, "We are changing the curriculum along with the rebuilding. We have found an instructor for the first through fifth years, but we decided that the NEWT students should have their own instructor, who also has time to do research and brew for the infirmary. I know you disliked teaching the younger children…"

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Are you suggesting I apply for the job? That is insane, Minerva, and you know it! There is too much bad blood between me and the rest of the staff – after the past year I simply cannot expect them to welcome me with open arms again, never mind the students who have been tortured under the Carrows!"

"I think you will be pleasantly surprised," the witch said gently, "Neville has explained how you tried to protect everyone from the worst of the Carrows' abuse, and Harry has filled in the staff on how certain things came about. No one saw your memories but me and Harry and they are now safely back in your head, but we have pressed that you were innocent, that Albus orchestrated his death."

She closed her eyes briefly. "I am not saying it would be easy, Severus, but perhaps it is the wisest course of action. If you leave now, it could be seen as running, an admission of guilt. If you were to stay in this new capacity, and were seen helping rebuild the school…"

Severus glared. "Might I remind you the Ministry could still decide to throw me into Azkaban or arrange a rendezvous with a Dementor for me?"

His glare was met head on and defeated. "Don't be silly, if that was their intention they would have tried already. Not that we would have let them take you, mind! No, Harry has the Ministry eating out of his hand right now, and you need not fear them. It will be difficult, but I have confidence in you, Severus. I will spend the rest of my days regretting I did not have that last year."

She lost her glare and continued in a defeated tone. "You do deserve rest and a life of your own, and here I am making demands again. I suppose we could find another teacher for the sixth and seventh years."

Damn that woman!

"That won't be necessary," he cleared his throat, "if you are certain my presence will not be disruptive…"

Minerva smiled in triumph. "Welcome on board then, Professor Snape."

She turned and left, thinking she would really have to work fast on splitting up the Potions classes and finding that first through fifth year instructor she claimed to have hired. Severus was staying. She would get to make amends. She would see him every day. Why did that make her heart warm and her stomach do a little jolt?

Severus shook his head and turned, starting to unpack his trunk. Silly woman. He wondered how many frustrated hours it would take her to come up with a teacher, arrange to overturn the entire curriculum and set up a new schedule. She certainly knew how to tempt him! He smiled grimly. Yes, of all people left alive Minerva probably did know him best now. Why did that thought lessen the horrible pain he had felt ever since Albus had put upon him the abhorrent task of ending the Headmaster's life?

ssssssss

"Have you heard? Snape is going to teach again!" Students whispered in the hall. Even though they had been informed of what the man had done and were practically ordered by Harry Potter and his friends to accept him as a war hero, the horrors of the past year as well as his unfairness in previous years was not easily forgotten. Yes, he had in fact protected them from the Carrows, as much as he could. Still many students had suffered. The exact details were not revealed, but apparently Headmaster Dumbledore had already been dying and had requested Snape to end his life as a strategic move. This made the late Headmaster even more of a hero in the eyes of the general population of Hogwarts.

Minerva once again realized that Albus had been fallible and very much so. Strategically, it made sense, yes, but the callous way in which Albus had disregarded Snape's feelings and his very soul, the way he kept piling the most difficult jobs on the Potions Masters shoulders made her wonder how much Albus had really trusted the rest of them. He trusted Severus, yes, but only because Severus was bound to him by blackmail and manipulation. He had obviously not trusted any other of them to know the truth and keep it hidden. Had Severus not given Harry all those memories, but only the single bit of information that Dumbledore had wanted the boy to have, he might well have died hated and alone. Albus, who planned all of this, who had planned Harry's death before the boy was even able to walk, had made no arrangements whatsoever to clear the name of his spy. She had always assumed Albus was Severus' mentor and father-figure – she came to doubt that more and more.

"What are you thinking?" The Potions Master asked at her right.

She was startled from her thoughts. "Oh, I am sorry, Severus. Not exactly happy thoughts, I fear."

"Care to share them, or would you prefer I leave you to it?" Severus asked casually.

"Oh – I don't think this will make you happy," she chuckled darkly, "I was actually wondering if my assumption that Albus was a mentor and father-figure to you might not have been entirely false."

He blanched, but recovered. "Well, you saw my memory of when the curse cost him his arm," he answered, careful to appear casual.

When the witch nodded, he went on, "He said, it is very fortunate, then, that I have you, Severus. He meant that literally. He had me. Not in the way a father thinks of his son, not even how a master feels about his dog. The closest comparison is probably how the Malfoys thought of their House Elves."

She placed a gently hand on his arm. "I am sorry, Severus. I seem to say that a lot, lately, but I do mean it. When…all these years, when we had our little competitions over the cup and Quidditch, I thought we had some sort of friendship. That is probably why I reacted so violently last year. My feeling towards you before this past horrible year were honest, and I always assumed Albus's were as well."

Snape smiled bitterly. "It is hard to lose a mentor," his gaze swept over the students, "the wizarding world will always worship him as a great wizard, and he deserves that. Without him, it is entirely possible we would not have won the war. However, power was his weakness and alas, power was what he needed to end this war. It corrupted part of him again, the part that no longer cared about hurting people. He did care about Potter, yet he still planned for his death. He did not leave the boy a choice – his entire life was planned, from the moment his parents died, so that he would develop the right disposition to one day voluntarily end his own life. Potter seems to have made his peace with Albus somehow, but it will take me a long time to do so – let alone accomplish the impossible and forgive myself."

He startled, realizing where he was and with whom.

"Oh, I am sorry, Minerva. I should not have said all that. Please, forget that I did." Before the witch could reply, he stalked off to the dungeons.

ssssssssssss

Late that night, Minerva knocked on the door of Severus's quarters. The wizard opened, his usual billowing black robes replaced by a simple one of warm wool.

"Minerva?"

"I had hoped we could talk," she said more bravely than she felt.

He silently moved aside to let her pass and offered her a drink. Taking the glass of red wine from him, she took a sip before returning it to the table and leaning forward.

"This afternoon…"

She had the unique opportunity to see Severus blush and shyly duck his head for the second time in mere weeks. "Please, Minerva – I should not have said all that."

"But you should!" she exclaimed, "it was the truth, and I am glad you did. What concerns me, however, is your remark that you will possibly never be able to forgive yourself. I understand why that is, but I do hope you let me, let us help you. We have forgiven you. Let us help you to in time, forgive yourself."

The reply didn't come immediately. "I was there when Charity was tortured. She begged me for help, did you know that? I had to pretend not to care, that she was a traitor by writing that article. Voldemort killed her. Nagini ate her. I did nothing."

He shivered, and Minerva stood up. "Albus asked me how many people I had killed already, you saw that."

"Lately, only those whom I could not save," Minerva remembered.

"Indeed. There were so many I could not save…so many…" She saw his shoulders start to shake slightly and moved towards him, putting her hands on his shoulders and resting her face against his back. She stood there for what seemed like an eternity in silence. After all, what could she possibly say?


End file.
